


Ether Garden

by boughofawillowtree



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dark!Aziraphale, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Time, Forced Orgasm, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Gabriel (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Multi, Mutual Non-Con, No betas we saunter vaguely downward, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boughofawillowtree/pseuds/boughofawillowtree
Summary: PLEASE MIND THE TAGS, YO. This is just graphic whump.A one-shot fic-of-a-fic based on @dreamsofspike's epicDescent Into Perdition, set somewhere around the events of Chapter 27. Crowley finds out that although Aziraphale is involved sexually with Gabriel (read: raping him regularly), he's never actually involved Gabriel, sexually. Aziraphale thinks that if Crowley cares so much whether Gabriel gets to orgasm, he can go ahead and take that task on himself. Gabriel doesn't really know what's going on. A bad time is had by all (except Az).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 52
Collections: Descent Into Perdition and DiP-verse Works





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Descent Into Perdition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887096) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 



> "Hey, Salix, you have two unfinished longfics, one almost-due gift exchange fic, and a handful of other projects! So, you know what you should write? A 2k one-off based on a bunch of riffing in the darkfic server! Love, your brain."
> 
> I drafted this in my head when I couldn't sleep last night, then banged it out mostly to share with the server, but it got long enough that it was just easier to share by posting on ao3. As a result it has not been edited, beta-ed, or revised in any way. Are there typos? Have certain words been repeated too many times? GUESS WE'LL ALL FIND OUT TOGETHER :)

Gabriel could hear raised voices from upstairs. He indulged in a moment of cringing, letting his body shudder and grimace its way through the fear he felt. Aziraphale hated it, hated Gabriel’s expressions of self-protective anxiety, hated when he was anything but obedient, submissive, patient - but Aziraphale wasn’t here, and sometimes he just needed to let it go.

He had been set to his chores again today, cleaning in the bookshop. Ever since Crowley helped him out with a demonic miracle, Aziraphale had been expecting such perfection every time. Gabriel sighed, trying to focus on the upholstered chair in front of him, out of which he was expected to remove what looked like centuries’ worth of stains. 

But he kept hearing the angry shouting, Crowley and Aziraphale arguing, and he knew it was no use. Whenever Aziraphale was irritated, he’d take it out on Gabriel. And he could tell they were having one hell of a row. Which meant that no matter how well Gabriel did with this antique chair, he was about to be in a world of hurt.

Still, knowing that it didn’t matter was no excuse for abandoning a task Aziraphale had given him, and so he returned to what he was doing, his tears causing the fabric’s pattern to blur in front of his eyes as he scrubbed with a raw, cloth-covered knuckle at a particularly stubborn spot.

He was interrupted, however, by Aziraphale thundering down the stairs and grabbing him by one arm, yanking him to his feet. Gabriel stumbled after the angel, the bottle of fabric cleaner falling to the floor, as Aziraphale dragged him up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

Aziraphale threw Gabriel to the floor, where he scrambled to his knees and dared a glance upwards, trying to figure out what was going on. He saw Crowley, sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture stiff. He gave Gabriel a quick but meaningful look, which Gabriel struggled to decipher. But whatever it meant, it seemed that Crowley was on his side - or, at least, not on Aziraphale’s _.  _

“Crowley seems to have a complaint about my treatment of you, dove,” Aziraphale sneered. “I knew he disapproved of what we do together, but he’s been especially upset to hear that you’ve been robbed of a particular experience he believes should be inherent to the process.”

Gabriel had absolutely zero clue what Aziraphale was talking about. He looked at Crowley, who met his eyes with an expression that seemed to combine apology with warning. 

“So I’ve offered him an opportunity to right this apparent wrong.”

At this, Crowley stood from the bed, hands out to Aziraphale in a placating gesture. “Please, angel,” he said. “That’s enough, you’ve made your point -”

“Don’t you want this?” Aziraphale asked, mock-sweetness dripping from his voice. “I thought you were so  _ concerned _ for him.”

“I only said -”

“I know what you said,” Aziraphale snapped. “Or was I a fool, to think you meant it?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley pleaded.

“Am I a fool, Crowley?”

“No,” the demon mumbled. 

“Well then.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and Gabriel found himself naked, shivering in the cool air of the bedroom. “Let’s get to it.”

Aziraphale pulled Gabriel to his feet, again, then shoved him toward Crowley, who did his best to guide the terrified, confused archangel onto the bed. Crowley positioned himself underneath Gabriel, lying with his head propped up on the pillows at the head of the bed, with Gabriel on his hands and knees over him.

Like this, the two could see each other clearly, no longer stealing glances behind Aziraphale’s back. 

Aziraphale clambered onto the bed too, taking up his position behind Gabriel, already grabbing at him, spreading his cheeks wide.

“Go ahead, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s tone was domineering, haughty. “Show him what he’s missing.”

Gabriel saw Crowley’s eyes flutter closed as the demon took a deep, steadying breath. Then he felt the demon’s hand curl around his cock, one finger brushing his balls gently.

Gabriel gasped, fighting the urge to pull away. That would be not only forbidden, but slam him backwards into Aziraphale, whose probing fingers had been replaced by his thick cock, pressing insistently into him.

“It’s okay,” Crowley said softly, still holding Gabriel’s limp cock gently in one hand. “You’re okay.”

Rarely did Gabriel dare to contradict anyone, these days - especially not in the bookshop, but in Heaven too - but he couldn’t help it. He shook his head, a silent argument.  _ No, no, it’s not okay. I’m not okay. _

Crowley smiled at him, sad and understanding. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” 

Aziraphale thrust into him, and Gabriel let his mouth fall open in a silent pant.

Crowley pulled his hand away, then ran his tongue down the length of his palm a few times. Gabriel watched him in horror and confusion as he replaced his hand down between the archangels legs, took his cock in his hand again, then started moving.

He felt Crowley’s hand start to stroke him, his touch soft and gentle. It felt strange. It felt...good.

Gabriel’s body threatened to betray him with more sounds, not from pain, but something else, some other expression trying to erupt from within him. He bit down on his lip, hard, tasting blood, and wrapped his fists hard in the bedclothes.

Crowley’s brow furrowed at this change in Gabriel. He leaned over, looking around Gabriel’s arm at Aziraphale. “Oh, let him make noise,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale scoffed. “Just because I’m letting you give him a little treat doesn’t mean he’s excused from all expectations of proper behavior.”

Gabriel’s head spun. _A treat?_ What was Crowley trying to do to him?

“It won’t work if he can’t relax.”

“Alright, fine. But  _ only _ based on what you’re doing to him. I don’t want to hear all his mewling and whinging.”

“Fine.”

“Do you understand that, my dove?” Aziraphale grabbed Gabriel by the hair and pulled his head back, arching his back so Aziraphale could lean down and snarl menacingly into his ear. “If you feel so compelled to express your pleasure, your gratitude, for what Crowley is doing, you have my permission. But any noises of protest, any whining or crying, I will not tolerate.”

Aziraphale let go of him and Gabriel nodded. Yes, he understood - at least, he understood what Aziraphale was saying.

He still did not know what Crowley meant to do to him. 

“Alright, then.” Crowley was speaking to him now, his voice tender and soothing. “Just try to relax. Let it feel good.”

Crowley was moving his hand more quickly now, and Gabriel tried to focus on the strange pleasure swelling in him there, and not on the pain and humiliation of what Aziraphale was doing behind him.

“That’s it, there you are.” Crowley smiled at him, and Gabriel felt proud of himself for the first time in a long while. Someone was pleased with him. He liked that.

And he liked the way his cock felt, too. Different. More sensitive. Bigger, somehow.

He figured it must be the same thing that happened to Aziraphale’s effort when he used it on Gabriel. Sometimes he had Gabriel start sucking it when it was still small and soft, then it got big and hard while it was in Gabriel’s mouth.

He didn’t know his own effort could do that.

But now Crowley was doing it - not with his mouth, but his hand. Although, he had licked his hand before. Was that important?

“Hey.” Crowley’s voice startled Gabriel out of his spiraling thoughts. “You’re alright, just stay with me.” Crowley lifted his other hand and ran it down Gabriel’s chest, tracing light lines with his nails. It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t carry with it the threat of hurt, either. It felt nice. 

Crowley did it again, and Gabriel let out a tiny gasp. He caught himself as soon as it happened, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“That’s good, you’re good, it’s okay.” Crowley was murmuring to him, the rhythm of his words matching the rhythm of his hand on Gabriel’s cock, and he was right. It was good, it was okay. 

Gabriel let his body respond, rocked his hips a bit as he slid his cock through Crowley’s tight grip.

Behind him, Aziraphale chuckled. “Oooh, he likes that,” the angel said. 

Crowley pressed his lips together and his eyes took on a cold glare, but he said nothing. His hand was moving faster and faster now, and Gabriel felt something new, something like a wave rising in him, cresting without falling, ripples of frothy pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

He shivered, his body unsure what to make of this new sensation, one that felt like danger, like the moment before a plunge into too-cold water, like the slow turning of a key in a lock when what was behind the door ought to stay hidden away. 

But Crowley wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let Gabriel pull away. Instead, he took his free hand and slid it under one of Gabriel’s, letting the archangel lean his weight on him, palm to palm, interlacing their fingers and sliding his thumb in slow, soothing circles over the top of Gabriel’s tense and trembling hand.

Aziraphale was going faster and faster now, pounding into him, and Crowley was touching him, pulling at a thread somewhere inside him, making him feel as if he were about to unravel. Gabriel choked out another moan, and Crowley didn’t stop, and then there it was, something tumbling down within his body like a tower in the desert, plumes of dust and the heaviness of bricks, but it felt good, too, like an exhale after held breath, like a hot shower once he was home, like a tension snapping and leaving behind only slackness.

He realized the sense of a release, of something coming out of him, was literal as well - something was all over Crowley’s hand, and the tousled front of his shirt. Gabriel recognized it - he swallowed it as part of his penance; and he sometimes saw it on the floor of his shower in Heaven, shameful little trickles as a reminder of just how deep within him Aziraphale’s power reached.

He felt terrible, doing something so awful to Crowley. And knowing that such a substance was within him, as well - bitter and salty and cruel - that he was not pure, that he was as low a creature as Aziraphale said he was, flesh and blood and bone and whatever this was, corrupted and in need of a cleansing scourge. 

Crowley, though, didn’t seem to mind. He lifted his hand, covered in the foul stuff, and with a mischievous grin, put one finger to his mouth -  _ sshhh -  _ then mimed a snap, and it was gone. Cleansed. Only a small streak remained on his shirt.

Drained and relieved, his body feeling weak and drowsy, his mind fuzzy, Gabriel let himself collapse on Crowley’s chest. Crowley draped one arm over his back, holding him close, and for an instant Gabriel felt himself drift toward something that might have been safety, warmth, care.

“Ah ah,” Aziraphale scolded, then, and grabbed one of Gabriel’s shoulders, hauling him back upright. “I’m not done.” His arms shook as he held himself up on the bed, doing his best to stay in position as Crowley lay underneath him, a sorrowful apology in his eyes. The demon did what he could, stroking Gabriel’s arms and chest with soft, clean hands as Aziraphale brutalized him. 

Gabriel let his head fall, hanging down between his shoulderblades, a strand of sweat-soaked hair brushing Crowley’s shirt. He kept his mind on the sensation of Crowley’s touch, on the still-lingering pleasure in his body, on the memory of Crowley’s voice.

_ You’re okay. It’s okay. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It happens again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-off, but then this scene appeared in my head, so I wrote it down.

Gabriel didn’t see Crowley for a long time after that.

The next time he and the demon found themselves in the same room, Gabriel was on his knees in the kitchen, doing his best to ignore the stabbing pain of tiny grains of rice digging their way into his skin while he polished one of Aziraphale’s wooden chairs.

Crowley was barefoot, which meant Gabriel didn’t hear him coming, and only noticed the demon when he started talking to himself.    
  
“Why does it smell like a lemon’s arsehole - eugh, why is there rice all over the - oh.” His tone went from irritated grumbling to awkward friendliness when he saw the archangel. “Hi, Gabriel.”

Gabriel nodded, returning the greeting. It still didn’t feel right, speaking without first being given permission.

Crowley made his way to the sink, dumping out a mug of coffee before rinsing it halfheartedly and setting it on the dish rack. “He’s got you polishing the furniture today, huh?” Crowley sounded tired as he leaned against the counter, his spindly fingers splayed on the tile behind him.

Again, Gabriel nodded, holding up the bottle of lemon-scented cleaner and oily rag Aziraphale had given him. 

“Here.” Crowley sighed, then snapped his fingers. All six of the wooden chairs surrounding the table, plus its flat wooden surface, now gleamed. 

Gabriel did his best to smile gratefully, but he couldn’t help but wince. Without the chore to focus on, he’d have no distraction from the needle-sharp sensation of the rice beneath him. 

“That can’t be comfortable,” Crowley said, then stepped over toward Gabriel and reached a hand down to help him up. “C’mere.”

Nervous, Gabriel glanced behind him, toward the entrance to the kitchen. 

“He won’t know. I promise.” Crowley’s hand was still stretched out, ready to lift Gabriel off the rice-strewn floor. “He’ll be out for a while. Thinks I’m asleep.”

His anxiety did not dissipate, but Gabriel badly wanted relief from the pain in his knees, and besides, it was hard to resist when someone was standing before him, telling him to do something.

He took Crowley’s hand and let himself be guided into one of the chairs.

“There. Fruits of your labors.” Crowley gave a wry smile, then bent down to brush a few remaining grains of rice from Gabriel’s knees.

It was the first time Crowley had touched him since - since the last time. In fact, it was the first gentle touch Gabriel had felt, from anyone, since…

Since. 

It made him shiver, feeling a warm hum run across his skin like ripples on a pond.

Crowley scratched his neck, looking somehow out of place in his own kitchen.  “How, uh...How’ve you been doing?”

Gabriel swallowed. It was a direct question. He could answer. 

“Okay,” he said. “I’ve been...yeah. Okay.”

Crowley finally took a seat in the chair closest to Gabriel, then dipped his sunglasses down so Gabriel could see his eyes. “You sure?”

“I...well…” Gabriel twisted his hands together in his lap, not wanting to smudge the mirror-shine surface of the table. “I think about it. A lot. I think about...about you.”

Crowley made a sympathetic sounding grunt before speaking. “Makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.” Crowley shrugged, then looked out the window, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “Your first time, and all.”

“Sometimes I want it to happen again,” Gabriel blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say that - hadn’t intended to confess this strange and confusing thing - but it had been all he could think about, even when he was back in Heaven. “Not - not like that, not with - I mean - just, what happened with you. It felt...good.”

To Gabriel’s great surprise, Crowley laughed. “You had an orgasm, Gabriel. They’re supposed to feel good. Leave you wanting more.”

“An...orgasm?” Gabriel fit his mouth around the strange word. 

Crowley took his glasses all the way off, twirling them idly in one hand while he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, his eyes closed as if he were trying to think of something. Gabriel sat quietly, waiting for Crowley to speak again. 

Finally, the demon lifted his head, sighed again, then cleared his throat. “You know you can do it to yourself, right?”

“Do what?”

“Give yourself an orgasm. Like what I did, just...you know.” Crowley curled his hand into a loose O and shook it back and forth.

Overcome with curiosity, Gabriel flipped up his short kilt and poked at the soft, fleshy thing between his thighs.

“Usually, er,” Crowley coughed, “you do it in private.”

Gabriel yanked his hand back, his cheeks reddening. Crowley had seen him naked, plenty of times - had even touched him there. While he understood the human conventions around clothing (far too much, as Aziraphale had made clear), those didn’t seem to apply in the bookshop.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling chastened.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Crowley waved a hand as if to dismiss the discomfort in the room. “Just - when you’re back in Heaven, you know. Find a time to be alone, and then, you know. Experiment.”

Gabriel’s head was spinning. He could do it on his own, without Crowley, without Aziraphale? Did he even want to? Even though he liked it, what Crowley had done - the  _ orgasm _ \- the whole experience had been painful, too, and frightening.

And then there was the question of the  _ stuff _ , stuff Gabriel associated with penance and punishment.

“Do you remember,” Gabriel started, unsure where he would go with this question. “Er, when it happened, when you - there was something, it came out, and you made it go away.”

“Yes,” Crowley said. “That’s called semen. Or - well, there are about a thousand different words for it. But, yeah. What about it?”

“Does...does that happen every time?”

Crowley chuckled, again, but unlike when Aziraphale laughed, it didn’t feel like he was laughing at Gabriel, or mocking him, or setting him up. “Usually, yeah, when you’ve got a penis. I suppose you could miracle it not to, if you don’t like it.”

“Oh.” Gabriel certainly didn’t like it, but he tried not to use miracles these days, not unless it was strictly necessary.

“Most people just use a tissue, or some kind of cloth.” Crowley shrugged. 

Gabriel thought of all the fine fabrics that had used to comprise his wardrobe. Would Aziraphale approve of him befouling them like that? Or would he be in even more trouble, for finding a way to use them for pleasure even without wearing them?

Well, he’d have plenty of opportunities to figure it out. These days, he had less and less to do up in Heaven, as all the other angels had started leaving him alone and Michael was “lightening his workload,” but without the distractions of work, his thoughts would more frequently drift to that moment in bed with Crowley. The demon’s voice, his gentle touch, the giddy rush in his body.

Maybe, next time it happened, instead of doing his best to ignore those thoughts and the desires they brought with them, he’d sit on the couch in his office, or even take a nice shower, and…

“He’ll be home soon,” Crowley said, putting his glasses on and standing up. “Here.” He held his arm out, helping Gabriel lower himself as gently as possible onto the rice again. “Sorry.”

Crowley did sound sorry, genuinely sorry. In Gabriel’s mind, he filed away the sweetness in the demon’s voice, the steady strength in his arm, the apologetic smile he gave as he slipped back upstairs. Something told him he’d need it later.

***

The next time Gabriel saw Crowley, it was under much different circumstances. 

A few weeks had gone by, during which time he was summoned over a dozen times by Aziraphale, for various chores and punishments. The angel was always unpredictable, but Gabriel had grown to expect the watch to change abruptly and call him down at least three or four times per week. 

But between the periods he spent suffering under Aziraphale, he was spending time alone up in Heaven, learning how to do what Crowley had called “orgasm.”

He’d found that the shower was a good spot, since it was private, and the water washed away the icky results. Though he did enjoy the feeling in his body, he was still uncomfortable with what happened outside. 

The best part, though, was what happened in his mind. While he stroked his effort, making it grow and stiffen with a happy, relaxing sensation, he closed his eyes and thought about nice things. About Crowley telling him he was okay. About Aziraphale petting his head. About times he’d done a good job.

Sometimes he even thought about things that hadn’t actually happened. Often, it was Crowley, saying and doing things that he hadn’t actually done, but which felt good to think about. Sometimes, it was just Gabriel by himself, but...different. Once he even thought about a human he had seen, back in the Renaissance.

It got easier, the more he tried it. And the easiness seemed to build. The easier it was to make his effort feel good, the easier it was to make his mind think about nice things. And the easier it was to think about nice things, the easier it was to conjure an orgasm.

It helped. Even though he often found himself accidentally thinking about Aziraphale instead, or discovering that his effort was disinterested in feeling good on a particular day, it helped. Gabriel did his best to find some time to think nice thoughts and feel good at least once a day, though there were plenty of days where his mind was too distracted with thoughts of Aziraphale, or his body was too worn out from his last session with the angel.

In fact, he’d been in the shower, thinking about nice things and getting ready to start touching himself, when the watch let him know that he had only twenty minutes to get to earth.

Gabriel immediately stopped what he was doing, though his body protested, and left the warm water of the shower, drying himself off quickly before heading to the elevator.

At first, things went like they always did. Aziraphale had some kind of punishment he wanted to administer, and so he told Gabriel to put his hands flat on the desk, bending over slightly, and took the cane to his backside and thighs.

It hurt, like it always did, and Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to wait out the pain. 

But Aziraphale was in a mood today, and he didn’t stop when he usually did. Gabriel felt his knees trembling and threatening to buckle. He could only bite his lip so hard. Soon, his body would betray him and he’d collapse from the position Aziraphale had ordered him into; or he’d cry out despite himself.

He had to find a way to endure without falling apart.

It occurred to him, then, that he might be able to distract himself with nice thoughts. He’d gotten rather good at it, during his long stretches of free time in Heaven. And he’d already been conjuring up some of those thoughts in the shower when Aziraphale called him.

Maybe if he pictured someone being nice to him, touching him in a way that felt good instead of hurting, made him feel safe instead of humiliated, he’d be able to withstand the caning. He could use this new trick he’d learned to be good, for Aziraphale.

So he did. He thought about his shower, and the sounds of the water, the warmth of the steam. He thought about hands - maybe his own, maybe Crowley’s, maybe someone else’s - his thoughts were fuzzier than usual - reaching between his legs and gently stroking him.

It was working. Gabriel felt his breath slow down, felt his grip on the table relax slightly, as he fell deeper into his thoughts.

_ You’re okay _ , he heard a voice in his head say,  _ you’re alright, you’re doing so well. _

Then the caning stopped. Gabriel let his posture sag a bit, relieved that it was over.

But it wasn’t over. Not exactly. Aziraphale grabbed Gabriel’s upper arm and yanked him upright, spinning him around. 

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” Aziraphale snapped, using the tip of his cane to tap on Gabriel’s effort. Gabriel realized with horror that it had gotten big and hard, even without anyone touching it. 

“No, sir, please, I -”

“Shut up,” Aziraphale snarled. Then, his grip on Gabriel’s arm tightening, he dragged the archangel up the stairs, to the bedroom door.

Crowley was on the bed when Aziraphale slammed the door open, scrambling as if he’d just been woken from deep slumber - or like he was pretending to be. “Angel, wha -”

“Look. We’ve spoiled him.” Aziraphale shoved Gabriel into the room and pointed to the offending situation between Gabriel’s legs. “Just a standard-issue correction, and he’s ready for a rub and a tug.”

Gabriel saw Crowley wrinkle his nose at the crude language. “Aziraphale, I don’t think -”

“Or maybe we didn’t ruin him. Just exposed the truth of what a whore he’s always been.”

This time, Crowley didn’t bother to try and argue, just watching Aziraphale as he continued his tirade. 

“Well I think we ought to give him what he’s after.”

Aziraphale pushed Gabriel onto the bed, following close behind him, so that Gabriel was nestled up against Crowley, his bare back pressed against Crowley’s silk-pajama clad chest. He couldn’t see the demon, could only see Aziraphale, towering over him, the cane still in his hand. 

“Go ahead, dear.” Aziraphale gestured toward Gabriel’s effort.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley mumbled into Gabriel’s ear as he lifted one arm to curl around the archangel’s hips and take hold of his cock.

“Oh, none of that,” huffed Aziraphale. “He likes it. See?” Aziraphale tapped Gabriel’s balls with the cane, hard enough to hurt. Gabriel squirmed, then felt Crowley holding him tightly, his free arm coming around to lay almost protectively across his chest.

“You’re okay,” Crowley soothed.

Aziraphale hit Gabriel again with the cane, this time on the inside of one thigh. Gabriel managed not to squeal, but his legs jerked closed, an instinctive shielding of the vulnerable flesh.

Aziraphale scowled down at him and Gabriel obediently spread his legs again, his muscles quivering with resistance. The cane came down again, and Gabriel managed not to move, though he did find himself with a fistful of Crowley’s pant leg.

The cane whistled through the air a third time, snapping over Gabriel’s other thigh and catching his balls again. He arched his back, pressing his head against Crowley’s shoulder, fighting back a cry.

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Aziraphale said with faux-lightness. “This is what I was doing when he got hard.”

Crowley made a low noise of acknowledgement, just enough to keep Aziraphale from becoming enraged at being ignored. He continued to rub Gabriel’s cock, slowly, too slowly for an orgasm to happen, Gabriel knew, but enough to feel good.

“I figured, if he liked it so much, we could indulge him, just this once.”

“So is the plan just to beat him until he comes, then?” Crowley sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. Gabriel could feel his warm breath on his neck, just under his ear, when he talked, and noticed that it felt nice, even though the words didn’t bring Gabriel any comfort.

_ Come? What did that mean? Was Aziraphale going to take Gabriel somewhere? _

Gabriel tried to turn his head to see Crowley, to try, and gauge the look on his face, but all he could do was press his nose into the demon’s neck. 

“Seems as fine a plan as any.” Aziraphale shrugged, then struck Gabriel with the cane, multiple times in rapid succession, until Gabriel was kicking his heels helplessly against the bed, rocking his hips back and forth in a futile attempt to deflect the pain.

“I’ve got you,” Crowley said into Gabriel’s ear, low and quiet enough that Aziraphale didn’t hear, not over the whip-sharp noise of the cane against Gabriel’s skin. “Go fast, it’ll be over.”

Gabriel didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he had no choice but to follow Crowley’s lead. The demon was stroking him faster and faster, and had somehow made his hand slick with something that smelled vaguely like lemon. He remembered their last conversation, Crowley lifting him up from the rice, and focused on that nice thought.

Aziraphale continued to rain down blows, making Gabriel feel as if his legs and balls had been set alight with blazing white pain. He caught Crowley across the knuckles a few times, too, but all the demon did was hiss sharply and tug Gabriel’s cock up toward his stomach, doing his best to keep out of the way of the cane.

It wasn’t easy, but Gabriel eventually felt himself drawing nearer to the wave’s crash, the plunge down underwater, from the churning surface into the peace beneath. His breathing quickened, and he relaxed his grip on Crowley’s pant leg, ending up with a hand wrapped around Crowley’s leg. The demon didn’t pull away, didn’t move, didn’t do anything but keep rubbing, keep touching, keep stroking. Gabriel could feel the demon’s heartbeat, heavy and rapid, pressed against his own back, as his own body went slacker, his mouth fell open, his hips lifted. 

“There he goes,” Aziraphale taunted. “Whore that he is, coming while being caned. I’ll have to be more creative with punishments from now on, if this gets him off.”

Gabriel did his best to shut out the angel’s voice, the stinging of the cane, his own shame. He shivered and shuddered in Crowley’s grasp as it happened, the orgasm, and the semen splattered over his chest.

Aziraphale dropped the cane and Gabriel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His body felt confused, torn between the agony in his thighs and the pleasure elsewhere. The stuff on his chest began to slide down, pooling at the creases where his legs met his hips, then spilling onto the bedspread.

“Disgusting.” Aziraphale took Gabriel by the hair and pulled him away from Crowley, a loss the archangel knew better than to openly mourn. “We bring you into our bed for a treat - one you were presumptuous enough to ask for - and you make a mess.”

“Angel,” Crowley said, his tone somewhere between pleading and warning. 

“He may be an archangel,” Aziraphale spat, “but he’s not above cleaning up after himself. Remember what you used to tell me, Gabriel? Cleanliness is...what?”

“Next to godliness,” Gabriel said. It was true. He had scolded Aziraphale for not keeping his bookshop tidy, for letting his Heavenly uniform get unkempt.

He had been holier-than-thou, self-righteous, all the things She hated in a servant. 

“That’s right.” Aziraphale manhandled him out of his sitting position, pulling him awkwardly onto his hands and knees. The raw skin where he’d been caned screamed out with the movement, but Gabriel knew better than to resist. 

“Clean it.” Aziraphale pressed Gabriel’s face into the dampened bedclothes, forcing his nose into one of the larger wet patches.

Gabriel didn’t know what to do. Usually, when Aziraphale told him to clean something, he gave him supplies. A cloth, or a jar of solvent. Something. He looked up at the angel, desperate for more direction.

Behind him, Crowley laid a comforting hand on one of Gabriel’s bare feet. He figured it was a gesture Aziraphale couldn’t see. Tangled up on the bed, disoriented, groggy and in pain, Gabriel could only half figure where Crowley had gone. But he felt the touch, the pads of the demon’s fingers against the bottom of his foot, and he let himself be grounded by it.

_ You’re okay. It’s alright. _

“Now.” Stormclouds gathered in Aziraphale’s eyes as he glared down at the archangel. 

Gabriel realized then what he was being ordered to do. His stomach roiled, threatening to mutiny. 

But he’d done it before. With his penance. Swallowed Aziraphale’s. He could lick up his own.

Somehow, it felt different. It didn’t matter, though. Aziraphale had told him to do it, and so he would. 

Gabriel stuck out his tongue, lapping at the substance. Like this, the taste lingered, the texture revolting. But he had no choice. Gabriel did his best to lick it all up as Aziraphale forced his head down, rubbing his face against the bedspread. Through it all, Crowley kept his hand where it was, a steadying presence, a warm grip tethering him.

Once Aziraphale was satisfied, he took Gabriel back downstairs, made Gabriel perform his penance (“Not exactly fair that you should get to, and I don’t,” he’d said), then sent him home.

Back in Heaven, Gabriel ran the shower as hot as it would go. He leaned his forehead against the steamed over glass and closed his eyes, trying his best to think nice thoughts, but none would come. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's more of this! it's clearly canon-divergent with DiP by now, with Aziraphale straight up keeping Crowley prisoner, and since DiP has also addressed the issue of Gabriel's first orgasm, but anyway, enjoy your angst.

It was almost over. Gabriel could tell. He’d gotten accustomed to Aziraphale’s rhythms, the way his thrusting got quicker and more erratic just before the end. Gabriel wrapped his arms around his head, closing himself off in the warm darkness of his own meagre protection, and waited.

But after the all too familiar ritual of Aziraphale doing what Gabriel now knew was called an orgasm, he didn’t leave Gabriel alone like he usually did. Normally, the principality would withdraw to snap his fingers and put himself back to rights, giving Gabriel at least a few moments to collect himself. 

Today, however, Aziraphale stayed where he was, only sliding his cock out of Gabriel but remaining on top of him. Gabriel didn’t move, didn’t lift his head up, didn’t make a sound. Then he felt something else enter him - thinner, harder. Aziraphale’s finger.

_ No, no, no _ , Gabriel pleaded silently, shutting his eyes tightly and begging to be spared. Not Hellfire, not there, not inside him, not where he already hurt so much.

Aziraphale didn’t burn Gabriel. Instead, he just...poked him. Gabriel shifted slightly, holding back a confused grunt, as Aziraphale’s finger became more insistent, probing, as if he were searching for something.

Gabriel couldn’t take it any longer, and a high pitched whine escaped his lips.

“What’s wrong with you?” Aziraphale was still prodding him, turning his finger in every direction, making Gabriel squirm despite his best efforts to be still. Gabriel felt the angel’s other hand reach underneath him and grab his cock, squeezing the soft flesh tightly until Gabriel gasped again, provoking a hard slap to his backside. “Ungrateful little whore. No matter what I give you, you act like no one’s ever had it worse. Even when I try to be nice.”

Gabriel had long since given up on making sense of Aziraphale’s ranting. He paid attention to instructions, as much as he could through the constant haze of pain and fear, but half the time Aziraphale seemed mostly to be speaking to himself, and all Gabriel needed to do was stay quiet and meek throughout.

“Let’s go. Get up.” Apparently, Gabriel had missed something important, because Aziraphale was now hauling him upstairs, toward the bedroom. Gabriel assumed that was where Crowley was. He didn’t see the demon around the house anymore, only when Aziraphale took him into the bedroom.

When Aziraphale pushed the bedroom door open and tossed Gabriel inside, Crowley was sitting on the bed, and he didn’t get up, just gave Gabriel a sorrowful look before glaring at Aziraphale. He didn’t pretend to have been sleeping this time. He just seemed angry and beaten down, and Gabriel guessed that Aziraphale was keeping him prisoner too somehow.

“You would not believe,” Aziraphale snarled, “how absolutely ungrateful Gabriel has been of late.”

“Can’t imagine.” Crowley’s sarcastic monotone made Gabriel cringe. Speaking to Aziraphale like that was sure to end badly for all involved. 

“Don’t be rude, darling,” Aziraphale chided, his warning implicit. “As I was saying, despite the fact that most of us enjoy the coital act, including penetration, Gabriel seems positively unable - or unwilling - to accept any kind of pleasure from me, no matter how often or generously I attempt to provide it.”

Crowley laughed dryly. “I see.” He sounded bored, almost - but even in his quick glances up from the floor, Gabriel could see the tension humming in the demon’s lanky frame. It wasn’t boredom, then. It was something else. Resignation, maybe, and sadness. Manufactured unresponsiveness, too - an attempt to keep Aziraphale from escalating.

“I thought, well, he seems to like you so much, perhaps he’ll be more amenable with you. At the very least, he’ll learn what he’s missing when he resists me so mightily.”

_ Resist? _ Gabriel hadn’t resisted Aziraphale in ages. Sure, sometimes something hurt so badly that his corporation took over and he flailed or struggled despite himself, but he was getting better at controlling himself, and it rarely happened anymore when Aziraphale was fucking him.

Not that he was about to argue. He kept his head down, still where Aziraphale had thrown him to the floor.

“Come on, angel.” Crowley’s facade of detachment was cracking. “You don’t even know if he has a -”

“They come standard in this style of corporation, don’t they? The problem is Gabriel, I’m quite sure it’s not simply anatomical.”

Crowley sighed. “You can’t possibly want me to try -”

“No, I don’t want you to try. I want you to succeed.” Aziraphale seemed incapable of letting Crowley finish a sentence, which was very frustrating for Gabriel, since he was hardly following any of the conversation. “Or I might be forced to determine the root cause of the situation using my own methods.”

The threat there was obvious enough, even if Gabriel couldn’t make sense of the specifics. 

“Alright, archangel.” Crowley made eye contact with Gabriel again for the first time since he’d first entered, then patted the bed next to him. “C’mere.”

Gabriel clambered onto the bed, allowing Crowley to guide him, laying him down on his front, his head resting on a pillow that smelled like Crowley. He inhaled, relishing its softness. Crowley tucked a few pillows under Gabriel’s hips, which was concerning, but Gabriel had already determined the rough contours of what was about to happen. 

Behind him, Crowley took a deep breath, and Gabriel felt the crackling of a small demonic miracle. Then, that sensation again - Crowley’s finger, pressing softly at Gabriel’s entrance.

Gabriel fought back every instinct he had, which told him to fight, to beg, to stop this from happening. Not because he was scared that it would hurt. But because he didn’t want this to happen with Crowley. Crowley, his friend. Crowley, who had been so nice to him. Something told him this was hurting Crowley, too, and he didn’t want that, didn’t want Crowley doing something bad like this. It wasn’t fair. 

But there was nothing to be done about it. Aziraphale wanted it to happen, even though he’d previously been insistent on Crowley and Gabriel not touching this way, and so Gabriel just remained still, his face buried in the pillow. He braced himself for it to hurt, but the pain never came. Instead, he just felt the pad of Crowley’s finger making slow circles, sliding over his sensitive flesh in a way that not only didn’t hurt, it also felt almost good.

Slowly, Crowley slipped his finger inside, and again it didn’t hurt. Gabriel wondered why it was that Aziraphale’s touch hurt him so badly, but Crowley’s didn’t. Didn’t demons also have the power to control Hellfire? Had Aziraphale stolen Crowley’s? Was that how he got so powerful?

Gabriel’s thoughts shattered out of focus when he felt Crowley’s other hand, reaching for his cock as it nestled against the pillows. The demon had just wrapped one hand around Gabriel when Aziraphale cut in.

“No, that’s cheating,” Aziraphale declared. Crowley pulled his hand back with an irritated mutter. “He ought to know it can feel good without that. It would be selfish of him to demand both.”

Gabriel had no idea what he had done that was selfish, lying naked on his face while Aziraphale directed Crowley to violate him like this. But if Aziraphale said he was, then it was true, or at the very least, it would be safest to accept that it was true.

Again, Gabriel’s thoughts of Aziraphale and what it would take to survive the next wave of baffling cruelty dissolved into wordless nothingness when Crowley’s finger hit some part of Gabriel that didn’t hurt, oh, it didn’t hurt, it certainly didn’t - 

Gabriel hadn’t realized he was moaning out loud until he heard Aziraphale stepping forward, opened his eyes to see a hand raised to correct him. But Crowley stopped the angel. “Let him, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, and to Gabriel’s surprise, it worked. Aziraphale lowered his hand and stepped back, crossing his arms like a pouting child.

Crowley continued to stroke and tease that one spot inside Gabriel, sparking pleasure through the archangel’s corporation. 

“That’s it, there you go,” Crowley crooned, running his free hand over Gabriel’s back and shoulders, scratching his scalp lightly. “We’ve found it, there you are.” 

It felt so good. Gabriel lost himself in it, felt himself responding to the touch rather than flinching away, felt his hips rubbing against the pillows, his back arching, his body pressing itself into Crowley.

Crowley seemed to be liking it, too. Gabriel thought he could hear the shape of a smile in the sounds Crowley was making, the little “mmhmm”s and “good, archangel”s that fell on his ears like a warm blanket, covering him in softness and safety.

He had almost forgotten that they were being watched, controlled, commanded, by Aziraphale.

Until the angel spoke again.

“Well. Get on with it!”

Gabriel felt Crowley freeze behind him, all the easy movements of the demon’s hands and body going stiff. Crowley made a defeated little noise, like he’d just lost some final hope.

“Okay, archangel,” Crowley said. It sounded like an apology, a warning, and a plea for forgiveness all in one. Gabriel didn’t know what was about to happen, but he could tell Crowley had tried to prevent it and failed, a realization that in itself was terrifying. 

Crowley’s finger slid out of Gabriel, and Gabriel looked over his shoulder to see the demon positioning himself above him, between his legs, just like Aziraphale did - 

_ No. No, no, please, no.  _

Gabriel’s eyes met Crowley’s and he tried to convey his desperation, tried his best to send a silent plea. 

_ Please, tell him no. Don’t let him make you do this. He’ll hurt me, let him take it out on me, just don’t do this. I know you don’t want this.  _

But Crowley just shook his head, the message clear. And Gabriel knew he was right. 

The stretch as Crowley entered him wasn’t the same as when Aziraphale did, but it still hurt a bit, given how sore Gabriel still was. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, his fists balled up under the pillow, unwilling to let Crowley see. 

Then, it stopped hurting so much, and Gabriel could tell Crowley was finding that same spot, that same way to touch Gabriel, only not with his finger anymore. And it did feel good, though not as good as it had before. 

Crowley set a smooth pace, rocking in and out of Gabriel at just the right angle to keep feeling good. He wasn’t talking to him anymore, just breathing in controlled little pants, and Gabriel found that he missed the sound of Crowley’s voice.

Gabriel tried looking at Crowley again, but the demon’s head was bowed, hair falling over his eyes, and all Gabriel could see was the top of his head and the curve of his body as he moved. Gabriel felt the occasional hot splash of tears on his back and he knew Crowley was crying, but there was nothing he could do but feel the trickle down his skin and onto the bedsheets beneath him.

Crowley put one hand in the middle of Gabriel’s back, balancing himself as he pressed down, and Gabriel liked that, liked feeling Crowley touching him, even if it was just that one point of contact. Gabriel gave up on trying to make eye contact and nestled his face down into the pillows, letting it feel good, trying not to think about how much was bad about this whole thing, how neither of them wanted it, how Aziraphale was staring them down like a vulture circling a carcass, how it still did hurt a little bit, even though one part felt good.

The pillows ground against his cock as Crowley picked up the pace a bit, making Gabriel moan and whimper. He thought he might be about to have an orgasm, which didn’t make sense since he wasn’t touching himself, and his nice thoughts were all mixed up with all the bad things that were also happening.

“There you go, archangel, you can do it,” Crowley breathed, and Gabriel didn’t know what he was being encouraged to do, but he knew he wanted to do it. He wanted to be good for Crowley. To make this all stop, for both of them. “Come on, you’re alright.”

Gabriel felt like he might snap in half, and it would be a relief. He squirmed under Crowley, not daring to reach down and touch himself but able to rub against the pillows. Crowley grabbed his shoulders and squeezed, pulling the archangel tightly against himself, forcing all thoughts of shame, and Aziraphale, and everything else out of Gabriel’s head, leaving only an explosion of pleasure that fizzed through his corporation and left him spent and limp on the bed.

Crowley withdrew as if Gabriel’s skin was burning him, and Gabriel felt exposed, abandoned, the air of the bedroom cold against the spots where Crowley had been pressed. He shivered. 

“There.” Crowley was talking to Aziraphale again, in that clipped, disinterested manner. “I did what you wanted.” Gabriel turned his head and cracked one eye open to see that Crowley had pulled on a pair of pants and was swiping at himself as if he was covered in something dirty that he wanted to clean off. Humiliation burned inside Gabriel and he turned away, closing his eyes and waiting for Aziraphale to address him.

“Well then.” Gabriel felt himself pulled roughly to his feet as the angel spoke. “It seems you are capable of enjoying yourself, then.” 

Aziraphale pointed at Gabriel’s crotch, and then at the pillows stacked on the bed, where that awful substance was smeared. Gabriel looked miserably around the room at Aziraphale’s direction. Crowley was studiously avoiding his gaze. 

“Why don’t you say thank you to Crowley, for helping you discover something so wonderful.”

Gabriel was about to go to his knees in front of Crowley, but Crowley stopped him.

“ _ Don’t. _ ” Crowley was staring at Aziraphale as if he meant to strike him down with a look. 

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, but didn’t insist further. Instead, he just yanked Gabriel from the room, shutting the door behind him with an unmistakable miracle. 

“Let’s see what else you can do with that new toy, hm?”


End file.
